Days in Shadow (Requests OPEN!)
by Kelsocspanatarailka
Summary: A oneshot series chronicling the life of the New Avengers and Shadows. Angst, fluff, feels and shenanigans to ensue! Corresponds with Winter Mist. Please request! Canon character requests welcomed.
1. Chapter 1

For Chocolatelover2001

Romanogers' first kiss: He never meant to actually _kiss_ her. Just banter with her a bit; up close and personal. But, he guessed that some things were just too hard to resist. Especially things involving her…

Steve

"You know, I hate when you do that." Nat says from behind me. I didn't hear her come in. (When have I ever? Super senses unfortunately don't beat spy walk…) I stop arranging the DVDs on the coffee table and turn to face her. She's standing over me, arms crossed.

"What are you talking about?" I ask her. I'm pretty sure I already know, but she likes to hear herself talk (despite her insistence to the contrary) so I let her.

"That thing you do with Bucky." She answers.

"Well. _That_ was specific." I mutter. Now I'm not so sure I know what she's talking about. I do a lot with Bucky, now that he's back. "Which thing?"

"The thing where you push him with Tony; push him with Sam, push him with Thor…anyone on the team, really, and refuse to spend time with them yourself." She frowns. I flick up an eyebrow.

"I've spent time with the team." I shrug. "Buck's still getting to know everyone. He needs the time more."

"What if people want to spend time with _you_?" Nat says. She steps closer. "What if we love hanging out with Bucky, but we want to see you too?"

"Then you'll have to get over it." I shrug, turning back to the cases scattered on the table. It is silent for a moment as I start to pile them up neatly, until she lets out an abrupt sound of disgust, or maybe anger and my DVDs fall again. I turn to glare at her, but when she speaks, her voice quivers just a touch.

"There you go again!" She huffs.

"What?" I ask peevishly.

"That!" She tosses up her hands. Her vagueness is starting to rub me raw. Luckily, she continues. "You act like Bucky deserves this place, this **_team_** more than you do!"

"That's it?" I sigh and stand. "He does, Nat."

"No, he doesn't!" She insists. Her voice is raised. "Don't get me wrong, he deserves it a hell of a lot; but damnit, you do too, Steve!"

She never calls me Steve unless it's an emergency, or she's super serious. It's always 'soldier', or 'Cap'. Never Steve.

"Buck's been through a lot." I explain. "I want him to know we need him. I'm just taking care of him."

"Who's taking care of you?" She asks quietly.

"Nat…" I look away. "It's not about me."

"You don't want him to leave." It isn't a question.

"Am I wrong?" I cross my arms. We stand in silence, staring each other down.

"No." She sighs finally.

"He always took care of me." I look down at her.

"I know." She says quietly.

"I want him to feel appreciated." I say.

"I know." Even quieter. "But who's taking care of you?"

"I don't need to be taken care of." I scratch the back of my neck.

"Everyone needs to be taken care of." She steps closer, so close I can feel her body heat, and she's not even touching me. It takes everything I have not to step away, but I plant my feet and stand firm. A corner of my mouth twitches up in a half-smirk.

"Really?" I say. I'm flirting with her.

"Yeah." She grins. She's flirting back.

"You wanna take care of me?" I say quietly. My voice comes out low and husky.

"What if I do?" She replies.

"I won't stop you." I shrug.

"I doubt you could." She leans into me, standing on her tiptoes. I dip my head down, looking into her eyes.

"I wouldn't want to." I say sincerely.

"I'm glad." She smirks, tipping her chin up. I grin and before I know what's happened, I'm kissing her. She doesn't seem surprised, and she hasn't slapped me so I guess we're good. This _feels_ good. I step forward until she's against the wall. After forever, we break apart and she just stares at me.

"Well." I say.

"Well." She returns. "That was good second kiss, soldier."

See what I mean? Nat grins, and I grin back, then she leaves. For a while after that, I stand there, staring into space with a stupid smile on my face.

"She kissed you, didn't she?" Jaq says from next to me. I'm really losing my touch here.

"Uh, yeah." I shift my weight, glance at Jaq, and smile a little. "Yes, she did."

We stand there a moment. My smile is small as I think of Nat. Jaq's smirk slowly widens until it's a full blown shit-eating grin. What happens next jars me from my reverie.

"Romanogers has come!" Jaq shouts with a triumphant laugh. She jumps up and down a little, then stops. "James! You better pay up!"

She bolts out of the room and into the stairwell. I will never understand that girl. Her and Buck are two oddballs together.

There is one thing I do know, though. Wherever me and Nat are going, I'm gonna enjoy it.

 **Behold! The first chapter of Days in Shadow! Please request.**


	2. Chapter 2

**So I was lazing around, and I suddenly remembered that I haven't updated this fic in...more than a week, thats for sure. I have literally no excuses except that I've been binge-catching up on Girl Meets World. I might publish something for that. I've also been reading Star wars fanfiction. It's very good. Anyway, on to the chapter!**

For Cassodembreankia

Team Baking: "Mmm." I frown. "So you won't even try?"

"Baking is your job." She smirks.

Viktore

I am just sitting in the kitchen minding my own business when Clint comes wandering in, Pietro, Rosalinda and Tony hot on his heels.

"We need cake." Pietro declares abruptly.

"Excuse me?" I look up from my magazine.

"We need cake." Tony says it slowly, like I'm stupid.

"Why?" I frown.

"We wanna prank Jaq and Bucky." Clint says.

"They're gonna kill you." I laugh, shaking my head.

"We're okay with that." Rosalinda shrugs.

"Okay," I shrug, unable to refute their logic, or their death wish. "Why cake?"

"They keep acting cute in the common rooms." Tony grimaces.

"Yeah," Clint adds, "I mean, their romance is great and all, but honestly? Keep it to yourself."

"Again, why cake?" I cross my arms, the magazine forgotten.

"We're gonna prank them with it, Phantom-man." Pietro laughs. "I thought you would have guessed that by now."

"So…what do you expect me to do?" I raise an eyebrow.

"They obviously want you to make the cake." Wanda drawls boredly. She passes through the living room, easily weaving through the furniture even though her eyes are glued to the book she's reading. 'Gone', the spine reads. I read that book. It was cool; kinda scary, but cool.

"Me?" I laugh. "No way. I'm not getting in this. Jaq'll kill me. And you know she can. Several different ways, actually."

"You and I both know that we won't leave you alone until you make us cake." Tony says conspiratorially.

"I gathered that." I sigh, blowing a thick lock of hair out of my eyes. I've been growing it out; another way to escape the invisible influence of my father. I look over at Wanda, who has taken a seat on the stool next to mine. "And there's no way I can still escape clean?"

"You and your Shadows share a mental link, yes?" She asks, finally looking up from the book. She must have finished the chapter.

"Yes…" I say warily, trying to ignore the eager gazes of the four nutjobs in front of me.

"Then I would think not, unless you try to play that you didn't know what the cake was for until the prank was done." She shrugs. I drag a hand down my face.

"I'm gonna be in so much trouble." I moan, tossing my head back. "Maybe Jaq will remember how long we've been friends and kill me quickly instead of torturing me."

"Unlikely." Rosalinda mutters. I shoot her a glare.

"I hope she tortures **you**." I huff.

"So…will you do it?" Tony asks hopefully.

"Oh, so I have a choice now?" I feign surprise.

"I mean, yeah." Tony looks confused.

"If you wanna live here." Pietro cuts in.

"Shut up." I roll my eyes. "I'll do it, but I am just a mercenary. You're gonna have to pay me well, I'll only perform this service, and if the job goes bad I'm ratting you out."

"Deal." Clint says. He puts out a hand to shake but I stop him.

"Payment." I say.

"Ah…" Tony thinks for a moment. "All new tech. And the run of the kitchen."

"All new tech for me, and some to bribe Jaq and Bucky to forgive me with. Plus the run of the kitchen and all new baking supplies." I counter.

"Deal." Tony says immediately, and we shake on it.

"You really are desperate, aren't you?" I laugh.

"Yes." Pietro whines.

"Then why don't you just buy store cake?" I ask. "It's faster, and it has no demands."

"Jaq won't eat any cake but yours, you know that." Rosalinda smirks. "And we figure that they'll forgive us quicker if the prank tastes good."

I doubt that'll make a difference, but I don't tell her that.

"Plus wedding cakes are expensive and time consuming." Clint adds.

"Wedding cake?" I frown. "Is that what you want?"

"Yeah." Tony says. I open my mouth but he holds up a hand. "Don't ask."

"Okay…" I shake my head. "So wedding cake style, except less elaborate. What exactly are you planning on doing with it?"

"We told you already. We are going to hide in vent and drop cake on them." Pietro looks over his shoulder so quickly his face blurs. I'm surprised his neck isn't broken. "So can you hurry up?"

"Are you guys gonna help?" I ask.

"Not all of us." Tony shrugs. "Pietro will go to the store for whatever you need, but then we need his help. Me, Clint and Rosa have to get everything set up."

"Okay." I nod. I pull a list from my pocket. "I was planning on making a cake later anyway. So everything on this list, Pietro. Except the food dye. The frosting will have to be white."

"Alright." Pietro says, and then there is nothing in his place but wind.

"Okay then." I chuckle, turning on the oven. "He'll be back in a few minutes so you guys can go."

"Thanks, buddy." Tony grins as he, Clint, and Rosalinda leave. "You're a lifesaver."

"As I aid your violent death at Bucky's metal hand." I mutter, moving to pull out some bowls. "You wanna help, Wanda?"

"I would rather watch." She says, folding her hands and doing exactly that.

"Why?" I grin. "You scared?"

"No." She says simply as I pull out the stand mixer I bought with a rattle.

"Mmm." I frown. "So you won't even try?"

"Baking is your job." She smirks. "It is your favorite thing to do."

"Maybe," I pull out two cake pans, one large and one small. "But how do you know it isn't yours?"

"I don't." She says; she hesitates briefly, then sighs. "I have never baked anything. I never learned how. My mother knew how, but she never got to teach me."

"I see." I pause. She is tracing an invisible pattern in the counter. "I didn't always know how to bake."

Just then Pietro blurs in. I don't even want to think about how he got everything so fast, but it's all there; even the receipt. And not one egg is broken.

"Amazing." I smile. "Thanks, man."

"Is no problem." He wheezes a little, but he still manages a smirk. "About how long?"

"Less than an hour." I say. "Once they're in the oven, don't run in though."

"Okay." He passes me a coms piece. "Tell us when it's ready for us to take."

"Okay." I say. I'm impressed with their dedication to a simple prank. "Clint's waiting for you on the next floor down."

"Thanks." Pietro turns, takes two slow steps, then a faster one, and he is gone.

"What do you mean you didn't always know how to bake?" Wanda asks. She picks up the conversation like Pietro never came in. I suppose she's gotten used to doing that. It baffles me, but I go with it.

"Uh, when I was young, I used to like watching my mother, sisters, and girl cousins cook and bake for our gatherings. Eventually, I started helping. I never understood how they could cook such good things from nothing, but I always had a knack for understanding baking." I smile. I put the coms piece in, then unpack the bags.

"So you _did_ always know how to bake." Wanda sighs.

"No, I always understood it." I correct, washing my hands. "In theory. When I was young, I wasn't allowed to bake."

"Why not?" She frowns.

"My father didn't think it was right for a boy to be so interested in 'woman's work'." I wave my hand vaguely as I measure out the ingredients.

"Oh." Wanda says. "So how did you learn?"

"I ran away, obviously." I smirk. "I was given the serum inverse when I was 18, but it was a two year program before that."

"So you left home when you were 16?" She sounds intrigued.

"Yes." I nod slowly. "And after I left the experiment to go into hiding, I taught myself to bake."

"You taught yourself?" She frowns.

"Yeah." I laugh, mixing the dry ingredients together. "It was a lot of trial and error, that's for sure."

"May I ask you something?" Wanda says hesitantly.

"Of course." I nod, adding in some of the eggs and milk.

"How old are you?" She frowns.

"I saw that coming." I laugh. I set down the empty bowl and wipe my hands, letting the stand mixer do the work. "I'm 25 now."

"I thought so." Wanda whispers, more to herself than anything. I lean my hip against the counter and grin.

"Is my age a problem?" I raise an eyebrow.

"No." She looks away, then huffs and looks me straight in the eye. "Can you teach me?"

"Teach you what?" I wipe at a bit of spilled flour.

"To bake." She says, her gaze unwavering. "I may be too old, but I want to know if baking is my favorite thing too."

"I can do that." I stare at her, and my voice is quieter than I expected.

"Thank you." She ducks her head, but I see the tips of her ears turn red. She is so mature; sometimes I forget she's only twenty years old.

"No problem." I turn off the mixer and pull over the pans. "You wanna pour?"

"Nice try." She smirks. "I'm already in enough trouble for not warning Jaq without helping you out."

"I tried." I shrug, pouring the batter in the pans myself. I slide them into the oven and start the dishes. For the rest of the time it takes to bake and ice the cake, we are silent. But it is companionable, comfortable silence.

"As promised," I tell Tony, "less than an hour."

"Thank you." He grins. "Send me your wish list and you'll be first priority."

"With pleasure." I smirk. "Good luck."

Tony leaves and Wanda laughs; softly at first, then louder and louder.

"What?" I ask, a ghost of a smile lurking still as Wanda bends over, clutching her side.

"It was so beautiful." She gasps between gales of laughter. "And they are going to go drop it on someone's head."

"I know." I laugh too. "They have absolutely no sense."

We laugh together for a good ten minutes, first at the ridiculousness of a cake prank, then at each other before we finally stop.

"Thank you." Wanda sighs finally.

"Ah, for what?" I grin.

"For letting me watch." She smiles, and it's the prettiest thing I've seen all day.

"No problem." I say sincerely. I start to say something else, but I hear footsteps. "Hey…"

"What?" Wanda says, picking up her book.

"Do you really want baking lessons?" The footsteps are heavier, and there's two sets, not one.

"Yes…" Wanda says warily.

"Then we're gonna have to be alive!" I say, flipping on the coms piece. "Pietro!"

He must have been on his way anyway, because he is there before I even get his name out. He scoops up Wanda, who is laughing again, and I run after him. Not as fast as him, but fast enough that we stay a floor ahead of Jaq and Bucky.

"Lina." I pant when we make it to our destination. Pietro sets Wanda down and takes off into the room. "We need sanctuary."

She rolls her eyes and opens the door wider, revealing a sweat-soaked Clint and Tony, an already-smirking Pietro and a twitchy Rosalinda.

"Join the club." She grumbles. Dante waves cheekily as I collapse into a chair.

Whether we're being hunted down by assassins for stupid pranks or saving the world, I love being an Avenger.

 **Poor Wanda. Collateral damage. Review and REQUEST! requests are** ** _very_** **open right now. So tell me what you wanna see!**


	3. Interlude 1

**Hey! I'm back! So, I'm thinking that I'm gonna update this today, instead of Friday. I'm gonna make it oneshot-Wednesdays! *jazz hands***

 **Anyway, This is the first interlude in this series. The Interludes are basically my requests. (Yeah, I write for me too...) They'll be sporadic, but that's good, because it means I'm busy with real requests. The more requests I get, the longer I write. It's up to you how long this goes on, so please REQUEST! I only have one to write right now, and it's the one for next week, so I'm open to anything.**

 **That being said; read, review, REQUEST, and enjoy!**

 **(To my Leveller readers, Leveller drabbles are upcoming. I'm working on those as we speak. Or write...)**

Interlude #1

Bucky's first night back: "Are you sure you're okay? 'Cause you don't look okay."

Bucky

The room is silent. I am tired, and my eyes are closed, but I don't sleep. I haven't slept in a real bed in over seventy-five years. I lay in the bed like I used to lie in the cryo chamber. I don't remember how to sleep.

The floor creaks and my eyes snap open, but I don't move; not yet. The intruder comes closer to the bed on light feet and I tense, readying myself to spring on them. The person is female. I can tell by the weight of the footsteps. Closer; closer…

"James." A voice says. "I know you're awake."

It's Angela. I sit up and look in her general direction.

"I am." I say. "Are you alright?"

"Yes…" She sits next to me on the bed, and I can feel her shivering.

"You're shaking." I say dumbly.

"No shit." She chuckles breathlessly.

"What's wrong?" I ask her.

"I-" She stops, then huffs and starts over. "I'm not gonna lie to you."

"What?" I think I missed the conversation switch.

"We've been lied to enough in our lives." She sighs. "I'm promising you that I'll never lie to you again, not even to spare your feelings. No more secrets."

"Agreed." I nod, even though she can't see. "So what's wrong?"

"I had a nightmare that I couldn't shake." She runs her fingers through her hair; I feel her move and her arm brushes my neck. "Luk looked like Maksim when I was half asleep in the dark."

"I'm sorry." I say. And I am. I'm sorry that Hydra didn't kill that sick bastard earlier. I'm sorry I wasn't there to protect her. I think of Angela in terms of her strength, but in my mind, she'll always be, to some degree, the scared, broken girl that I had to turn into steel.

Because of that, it doesn't surprise me when she starts crying. I didn't expect it, but everyone has a breaking point. And she has reached hers. She hasn't cried in front of me in sixty-five years. That's how long I've known her. I've seen her close, seen her fight tears, but never just cry like she's doing now.

She buries her head in my shoulder and sobs silently. She does everything of importance in silence. Anything loud from her is a distraction or a joke. When her tears finally stop, I look down at her.

"Better?" I ask. "You need to get anything else out?"

"Honestly, I think I'm okay." She shrugs against my chest.

"Are you sure you're okay?" I turn on the light and she squeezes her eyes shut. "'Cause you don't look okay."

"I don't know." She opens one eye and glances up at me. "I mean, I don't really feel anything right now."

"I understand." I nod thoughtfully, sitting back. "I missed you, you know."

"I know." She closes her eyes again. "Why didn't you come earlier?"

"I don't know." I sigh, but she sits up.

"Yes, you do." She glares down at me. I frown lightly.

"Then please; enlighten me." I grit my teeth.

"You were afraid." She sounds like she's about to cry again, but this time out of anger. "You've always been afraid; no matter what you say."

"Of course I was afraid!" I sit up and glare back at her. "After seventy years of being conditioned never to venture out without orders!"

"I was conditioned too, but I never let it stop me!" She looks away angrily, then snaps her gaze back.

"You were **never** conditioned like I was!" I sneer.

"Like you were what?" She snaps. "Made always to follow orders?"

"Yes!" I nearly shout. "You were always your own person!"

"Because I wanted to be!" She stands. "You think they didn't try to break me? I fought them with every breath! I broke every bit of their hold with sheer will! The only conditioning _you_ broke was the one that dictated that you never leave me. How convenient!"

"I never meant for it to be that way." I growl.

"Maybe not, but we both know you had no intention of coming back without some divine intervention." She laughs bitterly. "I had to get freaking kidnapped for you to show up! That's sick, Winter."

"Don't call me that!" I'm out of the bed like my butt's on fire. "I'm not him anymore! I haven't been him in two years!"

"Then act like it!" She snaps.

"Don't you think I'm trying?" I pull at my hair. "Don't you see how hard it is to change, to put away all of Hydra's influence? I carry them with me in my head! As this arm! I can't shake it! So yeah, I stayed away. I stayed away so you'd be safe! But, lo and behold, instead of you being safer without me, you got hurt. And it's all my fault."

"No it isn't, dammit." She huffs, leaning against the wall I backed her into. "You idiot."

"Yeah." I chuckle ruefully. "I am."

"This looks familiar." She grins.

"That it does." I laugh again. "And I still can't touch you."

"You know I still wouldn't stop you." She smiles a little. So I lean in, and I kiss her. Softly at first, then harder, until we both have to breathe. "Good to know you haven't lost your touch."

"I couldn't." I smirk. "That would be disappointing."

"No joke." She grins. Then she looks at me like she had a sudden idea. "You know what?"

"No. What?" I answer.

"Marry me." She says.

"What?" I frown.

"Marry me." She grins again. "Maybe not right now, but marry me."

"Are you proposing to me?" I laugh.

"Naturally." She smirks.

We stare at each other for a second before I answer.

"Yeah." I shrug. "I'll marry you."

"Good." Her smug look is too much to bear.

"But don't think this is the end of it." I say mysteriously. She will not get to be the proposer in this relationship. I'll show her up, as sure as my name is…James.

"What's that supposed to mean?" She frowns.

"Don't you worry your pretty little head about that." I scoop her up, ignoring her protests and muttering about derogatory nicknames. I lay her in the bed and get in behind her. Soon her breaths even out and not long after, I sleep as well.

I guess it's only fitting that **she** teaches me how to fall asleep again. It's a good feeling.


	4. Chapter 3 (part 1 of Nightmares)

**Okay, so two people asked for the same prompt, unless it was the same person being impatient and asking twice, which i doubt. The point is, it was supposed to just be Natasha's struggles. It really was, i promise. But it wasn't really coming together, so I scrapped it all yesterday and started over. SO...I wrote this all in like, two hours. It's a paradox between the feelings all the female Avengers have for nightmares. For comparison purposes. Warning! This is so angsty, I just about cried. Writing this was just...wow.**

 **Anyway; read, review, and try not to drip tears on your computer screen.**

For: Guest and Guest...

Natasha (Everyone) has PTSD and doesn't wanna tell the team: But nothing happens, and no one comes, and there's no happy ending because I don't deserve those.

Jaq

The tower is silent. Everyone is asleep, even James. I suppose I should be glad he's resting more, but I can't. I wander the halls aimlessly. I'm not sure where I'm going, but I guess if I end up in a room that can divert me, I won't complain. Anything to chase away the images flashing in my eyes every time I close them.

A syringe; a glint of silver and a mangled scream that sounds exactly like James. Gashes and stabs healing over; growing new skin right in front of my eyes. Pain, burning into rage; a knife and fire everywhere. Another scream, this time, a child's. And under all that, the overwhelming urge to lay down and cry.

I pad into the kitchen, walk to the freezer, and dig out the rocky road. (If I have to eat my feelings, they might as well taste like chocolate…) I move to the drawer and get a spoon, then sit on a barstool and stare into space.

Wanda

 _"_ _Wanda" Pietro says. He walks up to me, his face twisted in agony, his torso riddled with bullet wounds that blossom with his blood. Horrible flowers in a field of pain. I look up as he stands over me and I reach for him, but he hovers just out of my reach. He grimaces down at me and his eyes roll back in his head and he falls. And once he falls I can finally reach him but when I touch his neck, feeling for a pulse, he reaches up and grabs my throat in a vise grip. I choke and claw at his hand; no, Ultron's hand. I use my power and pull out his metal heart, but then it isn't metal anymore. It's Pietro's and my parents' and the Avengers' hearts and they all stand before me, with bloody holes in their chests and dead eyes, reaching for me with cold, touchless fingers…_

I wake suddenly, sweating and frantic. Watching everyone I love fall again and again in vivid clarity hurts more each time it happens. I crawl out of bed, curl up in a ball in the corner and shiver. Usually, I would go to Pietro's room and check that he's still alive, but usually I don't dream that I've killed him. So I stay, and I shiver, and I think about nothing to keep from thinking about everything, and eventually I cry because there's nothing else I really can do.

Salina

I run my hand over the marks on my shoulders and neck and sigh. Another night; more nightmares. I sit on my bed and stare at the wall that I never put anything on. Every night, I tell myself that I'll hang something up, to make it seem less like a lab; but every day, I ignore any thoughts of my nightly struggle. Eventually, my promise to personalize became less of an appointment and more of a mantra to get me through the day.

I love Dante, but he wants to protect me from his issues. I wish he'd let me help him. Maybe if I could focus on him, I wouldn't struggle so badly myself. I feel alone, even though I'm fairly certain that at least Jaq suffers too. But she's always had it together, and she's always hated when people unload on her. So I sit in my room, alone. Just like always.

Rosalinda

I dream of my father. I always do. There's no other image that could scare or sadden me, so my body (traitorous as always) uses that to torture me. One night it's my father carving me up, another night it's him carving up my friends. When I think hard enough, I positively burn with jealousy. (Although that may just be the poison in my system burning through my bloodstream.)

I hate Jaq sometimes, because she has someone who loves her to talk too. Sal too. She has Dante. I hate Natasha because she's unflappable, and I hate Wanda because I can't get the only person I thought could be mine. (Because he's always belonged to her, before they were even born.) I pace the room, trying to banish the thoughts that tempt me from the dark side.

I could consume this entire compound and never look back. Let them live in the darkness that covers my world and see how they like it. But I don't, because to do so (to knowingly enjoy causing pain to another) would be to please my father. And I'm not my father. So instead I pace until I collapse, and sob until I pass out.

Such a jolly life have I.

Natasha

Blood and fire. That's all I ever see when I fall asleep. Except when Wanda spirals out of control in the night. Then I still see blood, except that of those Wanda cares about. I never tell anyone about the nightmares. They've always been there, but to me, they don't exist. If I try hard enough, I can almost convince myself.

Black Widow, the mistress of deception.

Of course, it's always harder to fool yourself, but I can do it. In the light of day, I can convince myself that I never have any nightmares. In the dark of night, however, it's much harder. But I can still do it, as long as I don't fall asleep.

So I stay awake. It makes me feel strong. In the Red Room, they told us that nightmares are the body's way of admitting remorse for part deeds. But admitting remorse is weak, and the Black Widow is strong.

Strong, indeed.

Lying to the others is easy, but lying to myself is hard. Every time someone asks how I slept and I smile and lie in their face, a piece of my heart withers; but every time I convince myself that I'm not lying at all, a piece of my soul dies.

If this were one of the sappy movies that Sam likes, someone would come and save me. Someone would help me stop lying to myself; make me admit that I have nightmares too. They would stop my heart from withering before I turn heartless; they'd save my soul before I lose it, and there would be a happy ending.

But this is not one of Sam's movies. I continue to lie to myself and everyone else and they believe it. In fact, I'm preparing today's lie right now. I wait and wait for my savior to come, but nothing happens, and my heart withers, and my soul dies more every day. More importantly, there's no happy ending. Because I don't deserve those.

 **So much angst. I know.**

 **If you guys like, I can do a part two later on with the guys' thoughts on nightmares.**

 **Keep sending in prompts. Unless i get more, there won't be a chapter next week. Bye!**


	5. Chapter 4

**So, I would like all of you guys to thank Strawberry48, because without this beautiful, precious angel; y'all wouldn't have gotten a chapter this week.**

 **Read, Review, REQUEST! And enjoy, of course.**

For: Strawberry48

Viktore and Wanda weapons training: "No, not like that. Keep your elbow up when you parry." He huffs. I roll my eyes. "Well, if you know how to do this so well, why don't you use it?"

Wanda

"Let the record show, that I think this is ridiculous." I cross my arms.

"Maybe." Natasha shrugs. "But you're not getting out of it. Not after last mission."

"Every criminal doesn't own a power inhibitor!" I protest.

"But the one who did almost wiped the floor with us." Natasha walks away and I scream inwardly.

"D'you get it all out?" Viktore's voice comes from behind me, and I jump. I guess my scream wasn't all inward.

"Yes." I snap. I'm still too angry to be melted by his charming smirk. He doesn't seem phased; he just grabs an assault rifle off the rack on the wall.

"Let's get started, shall we?" He says crisply. "I know you don't usually use a weapon, that's why you're here. However, everyone has a weapon that they prefer; regardless of if they've ever used it."

"Your point?" I roll my eyes.

"My point is a question." Viktore continues calmly. "Which weapon do you see and think, 'yeah, that's mine'?"

"I don't know." I toss up my hands. "What's yours?"

"Irrelevant." Viktore laughs. "But it's a gun. Always has been."

"Why?" I ask. I'm mostly stalling, but still curious.

"It makes me feel powerful." He says simply. "And with proper training, it's safe; unlike my powers."

"Oh." I say quietly. "Is there a weapon I could use with my powers?"

"What do you mean?" Viktore looks intrigued. "Like, you want to use your powers to supplement the weapon?"

"Yes." I grin. "What could I use like that?"

"I think you could use this." He grins. He turns and scans the rack, stopping on the blade shelf. He withdraws a long, sharp-looking sword along with a sheath.

"What's that?" I frown.

"A sword." Viktore grins like it's no big deal; like he's not handing me a bladed weapon capable of decapitating several people. "You put the sheath on your back, and draw it from there."

"How can I use it with my powers?" I raise an eyebrow.

"Can you cover things?" He asks. "Like coat an object with the energy?"

"I think so…" I shrug. He hands me the sword, handle first, and nods.

"Try it." He urges. "Think about the blade, and focus on covering it."

I hold the sword in my hand, testing the weight, and think about my magic. I imagine it sliding over the blade of the sword, covering it with red like fire; flickering and dangerous. When I open my eyes, the sword looks exactly like I imagined, covered hilt to tip in scarlet. I swing it around a few times, and the magic flares and hisses. I look up at Viktore, and he's positively _beaming_.

"Good job." He smiles. "Now turn it off."

I think about the magic leaving the cool steel of the blade; and the scarlet fades instantly.

"Very nice." Viktore claps once loudly. "Now we know you can control it. I just have to teach you how to use the sword correctly."

"Okay." I may not need a weapon, but I'm starting to warm up to the idea.

"Let's do it then." He takes the sword from me and replaces it with a blunt training sword. "I teach by showing."

"This is needlessly difficult." I complain from the floor. Viktore has just destroyed my dignity in another mock fight.

"I agree." He helps me up. "But it is necessary. If you cut off your own hands in a fight, what good is that?"

"Not much." I sigh. "But it's hard."

"I know." Viktore grins. "Try not to be so stiff. Think of it as fighting like you do with Natasha, except adding a sword. Think of the weapon as a sharp extension of your arm."

I've never thought of it like that. I've always seen a weapon as extra (unnecessary) equipment. I readjust the grip of my hand, and swing the sword around with the natural rhythm of my arm. Viktore whirls his sword and attacks swiftly. I turn and block his blow as easily as breathing. He slides his blade away and brings it back in a jab, which I deflect. On and on it goes, until Viktore finds an opening in my defense and takes advantage of it.

"You get tired quickly." He notes.

"You don't say." I snip back. He grinds his teeth a little.

"Don't be sarcastic. I'm trying to help." He says quietly. "You need to work on your endurance."

"Most fights don't last this long!" I protest hotly.

"But what if it does?" Viktore shoots back. "What if, _wonder of wonders_ , one day we fight someone who isn't just a useless goon that we can blow away? What then? What if there's a person; a bad person with genuine skill? That's why everyone else trains so much. I get that your power doesn't really **increase** anymore. But regardless, if you wanna not die, you have to be good at more than making jazz hands at people while wishing death upon them!"

"Fine." I hiss. "Teach me your endurance, lest I actually **_win_** a fight by 'making jazz hands and wishing death upon people'."

"Wanda." He sighs. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean-"

"Irrelevant!" I shout. "It's not what you meant, it's what you said. Now, the _lesson_ , Viktore."

"Alright." He shrugs, his brow drawn. "Fine, whatever. The lesson."

"Thank you." I glare. I raise the sword. "Tell me what I need to know."

"Let's go, then." He glares back and lunges. I block his blow but he shakes his head.

"That's not it." He says flatly. "Try again."

I do, but it still isn't good enough, so I try again. And again. And again. Finally, I break. Viktore raises his sword to bring down on my head. I block the blade with both hands on my sword.

"No, not like that. Keep your elbow up when you parry." He huffs.

I roll my eyes. I've had quite enough of his nitpicking. (I asked him to tell me everything, but I was being an asshole, I wasn't serious.)

"Well, if you know how to do this so well, why don't you use it?" I snap.

"What?" Viktore frowns.

"A gun is your weapon, _da_?" I ask.

"True." He answers. The frown stays on his face like it's glued there. "Your point?"

That was twice as painful on the back end.

"My point is a question." I seethe. "What rights have you to teach me swordsmanship?"

Viktore's eyes widen, then flash fire. He straightens to his full height; so tall I have to strain to make eye contact. He stands rigid, like if he holds himself tall enough, I'll dismiss him.

"I was a swordsman in my father's house." He says through a clenched jaw. "I used a sword before I ever shot a gun."

"Oh." I say quietly. The past is a point of contention for every Avenger, but more so for the Shadows. Viktore's is especially sore for him. "I'm sorry."

His breaths hitch, like he had to restrain himself from shouting 'irrelevant'. I've been goading him all morning, and I truly am sorry. We are both silent for a moment before I speak.

"I'm sorry for complaining and yelling at you." I say quietly. "It was very rude of me."

"Well, I apologize for bossing you around." He smiles a little; apologetic. "It's always been a problem for me."

"I forgive you." I smile back.

"I forgive you, too." He smiles wider, then touches the blade of his training sword to mine. "Follow me."

"Tony's simulator?" I frown a little. "Why here?"

"I want you to see something." He smiles, takes my sword with his and turns on the simulator. I watch in awe as he goes through the simulation. He destroys 150 bots by himself with those two fake swords. He moves like he's dancing, like he knows what he's doing.

When he steps out, chest heaving, he hands me the swords.

"What do you want me to do?" I ask. Viktore grins.

"Light 'em up." He winks. I coat the blades and step into the simulator. When Viktore turns it on, I start out clumsy, unable to handle the weight of two blades. But I pause, droids whizzing around me, and remember Viktore's advice. I start to swing the blades, using them for both offense and defense.

I fry the bots' control panels with my magic and slice them up. When I finish, I hop out, drop the swords and give Viktore the biggest hug I've ever given someone who isn't Pietro. He stiffens up at first, but pretty soon he hugs me back.

"What was that for?" He asks quietly.

"For making me more than what I am." I answer. "Thank you."

"Anytime." He smiles, and the warmth I feel fills me from head to toe.

 **This is such a headcanon of mine, Wanda being a total BAMF and using two swords. This headcanon** ** _will_** **show up in Scorching Heat (The sequel to Winter Mist). Because it can. When you imagine the swords, think of it like the one Blade uses in Blade: Vampire Slayer.**

 **I'd like to state, that if anyone who I've already written a prompt for has another idea, I'll write that one too. If there are no requests, next week is an interlude.**


	6. Chapter 5

**So this was a prompt for XxShadowxX, a guest. Prior to this, i'd never listened to this song, so i'm sorry if it's unsatisfactory. It's kinda angsty, I think. I dunno. It also fills a request for the lovely Strawberry48, since it is, objectively, almost half Romanogers.**

 **Read, review, REQUEST, and as always, enjoy!**

Songfic: Garden by Halsey – Natasha and the men in her past (pre-MCU through post-Winter Mist days, unrequited Clintasha if you squint)

Natasha

( _You said, "Darling who you praying to?"_ )

She doesn't want to kill anymore.

The revelation comes to her, oddly enough, when she is killing someone. The Black Widow, master of the seduction mission. She's tired of it. She resolves that the first good guys that try to take her down after this mission, she won't elude.

It ends up being SHIELD. Because of course it does.

(" _Was anybody answering you?_ ")

She's taken in by a man named Clint. She pretends she can't speak English, even though she's fluent in 12 languages.

(" _Because I've done my part for twelve years now, and I can't seem to get through._ ")

She gets into Nick Fury's office, and tells him off in every one of those twelve languages; tells him what she will and won't do; tells him that she's done sleeping with men then killing them. He just stares at her, all through her tirade, and when she's done, he tells her she's still the master of the seduction mission. The Black Widow.

(" _Cause I've got you, yeah, I've got you; now I've got you…_ ")

She only sleeps with Clint once, and leaving without killing him makes her feel like something is left undone; incomplete. Failure.

The next morning in training he says nothing. (Not about her failure, or about them, or about his wife at home.)

( _And you think my bruised knees are kind of pretty; and I think your tired eyes are kind of nice._ )

After she becomes an Avenger, she sleeps with Tony, of all people. It's a long time coming, and frankly a little revolting. She wonders how Pepper puts up with him, and later she wonders if he told her. (Tony has a very guilt-prone personality…)

(Although she wants to-) She doesn't kill him, either.

( _And when I first met you, there was a garden; growing from a black hole in my mind…_ )

She doesn't sleep with Steve, after Hydra is found in the only good thing she's ever known in life, and in a way, she's glad she didn't. He is too important to be corrupted. A leader.

She should stay, have him teach her how to succeed, how to see success in something other than a body count, but she runs away. He's too pure; he dilutes her shame, makes her feel worthy. Worth is dangerous.

( _He said, "Darling what's it coming to, and have you got a lighter on you?"_ )

During the crisis in Sokovia, she has a fling with Bruce. Neither of them is in love, or even in like. He thinks she's hot; she wants to forget. Bruce's forgettable, safe face helps drown out images of bleary blue eyes and waiting for them to open. (Love, her heart screams; Never, the box around it proclaims…)

(" _Been trying to put these down for ages now, but I can't seem to come through._ ")

After the Shadows join the team, she thinks she's done using men. But when Jaq reveals that the man she loves is the Winter Soldier, old images flood up.

Images of a stolen hour after one of the rare missions when Russian Hydra and the Red Room cooperated. Images of a creaky bed in an abandoned hotel; of heat and sweat and mania. Inside she panics, outside she smiles. Steve glances over and she avoids his eyes.

( _Said I love everything you got, boy; tell me, would you be mine? Be mine, be mine…_ )

Later, when she is wiser, and Jaq is married and James is no longer the Winter Soldier, and he remembers, and Tony and Pepper are still in love, and Clint and Laura are still married, and Steve has taught her how to succeed; she kisses him for the second real time (the third overall) and she whispers how much she loves him.

She's never said that to anyone, but he is a fitting start. She sleeps with Steve, and for once, she doesn't leave in the night. She stays until the morning, and when she wakes up and doesn't feel like a failure for letting Steve live; she thinks that sunrise might have been the key all along.

( _Sick, sweet nothings you're tryna talk boy; tell me, would you be mine? Be mine, be mine…_ )

She doesn't have to kill anymore.

( _And you think my bruised knees are kind of pretty_

 _And I think your tired eyes are kind of nice_

 _And when I first met you, there was a garden_

 _Growing from a black hole in my mind_ …)

 **Tell me what you thought!**

 **Also, I recently got an invite to ao3 (same username), and I'm thinking about cross posting there. I've also got some Girl Meets World works i'll be starting over there. You know, If you're interested.**


	7. AN and Preview

**Hey guys. I know this isn't what was requested by Halseyfangirl, but I am unaccustomed to writing songfics. This is my first time writing them, all I've gotten are Halsey song requests, and I am** ** _not_** **a Halsey fan. Sorry. I just don't really like her music. However, I said I would write anything, so I will have it for you by NEXT WEDNESDAY. I am not abandoning your prompt, just...trying to figure out how to work it.**

 **I'm trying to figure out how New Americana even relates to the Avengers, honestly. I mean, other than the fact that 'americana' sort of sounds like Captain 'America' (If anyone connects the dots, please drop me a review or PM, because I genuinely don't understand the song.) The lyrics are literally about how Halsey and her generation, I guess(?), are the new americana. So, as such, they basically listen to rock music and smoke weed. Now listen, I'm not hating on Halsey, okay? I admire her success as a person. I just don't listen to her music. I don't. But I did, (I actually enjoyed Garden) and it's taking me some time to sort through this song, so bear with me.**

 **Now, in other news, I don't want this to be a colossal waste of your time, so I've got the first chapter of an AU that I'll be posting soon. Like a preview. It's an Old West AU, which I haven't really seen in this fandom. (If anybody knows of one, please direct me to it, because I'd love to read it.)**

 **So, without further ado, the first chapter of Blood, Bullets and Bravery!**

Character List: (because everyone has a different role)

Sheriff Steven Rogers - kind, generous lawman of Holbrook, California

Mister Anthony Stark - rich, shipping magnate

Doctor Robert Banner - attentive, caring town doctor

Lord Theodore "Thor" Odinson - ruler of a small Norwegian province, looking to find adventure in the West

Mister Clinton Barton - sharpshooting prankster, runs the mercantile

Miss Natasha Romanov - former high priced "companion" from back east looking to start again; surprisingly fine combat skills for such a proper lady

Deputy Samuel Wilson - former plattoon mate of the Sheriff from when he was in the army, made fast friends with Clint

Mister James Rhodes - Mister Stark's foreman, best friend, and grounding voice

Miss Virginia Potts - Mister Stark's long time love interest, and personal assistant

Mister Pietro "Peter" Maximoff - a young cattle rancher, second-generation Eastern European, aiming to make a home for his sister

Miss Wanda Maximoff - sweet, young woman; business smart and financially shrewd; often saves her brother from himself

Mister James "Bucky" Barnes – blacksmith/livery owner, has his eye on Wanda; estranged childhood friends with Steven

Mister Harold "Happy" Hogan - runs the saloon; is his own bouncer, moonlights as bodyguard for Mister Stark

Mayor Nicholas Fury - mayor of the town

Deputy Mayor Coulson - deputy mayor of the town

Mister Victor "Vision" Ultron - the young son of an unjust factory owner in the east, Mr. Ultron hides himself away behind masks and closed doors, due to a devastating skin condition that makes him most unpleasant to behold; he is inwardly a kind and gentle man who has been shunned for his condition and his parentage for a long time. He comes to Holbrook for a fresh start.

(Here's the first chapter...)

Chapter 1

"So you will go inside and I will...?"

"Wait outside." Pietro Maximoff nodded decisively. "The saloon is no place for a young lady. They would devour you in there."

"And I am so much safer outside." Wanda Maximoff returned dryly.

"You are." Pietro insisted doggedly. "I will go in alone, because those men will look at you like you're a meal, and I will have to hurt them."

"If it is so dangerous, am I to allow my only brother to enter?" Wanda raised a cool eyebrow at her brother's argument.

"Yes, you are to allow it, and you will be fine in full sight of the jailhouse." Pietro rolled his eyes slightly.

"Why must you go at all?" Wanda asked him, her tone edging a bit on pleading.

" **You** wanted me to ask directions to the mercantile." Pietro said in a softer voice, hearing his sister's concern.

"There are other places to ask directions, **_brata_**." Wanda said slowly; as though he were dense.

"Well, we are here now. You will stay and I will go. Do not talk to anyone." Pietro replied hotly, applying the brake and jumping down from the wagon. (Perhaps he was upset that his sister's logic was so hard to refute.) But refute it, he did, and Wanda was left outside while her twin brother went inside to ask directions. _He could've gone someplace else._ She thought. _But I suppose it is none of my business where Piet chooses to frequent._

As she thought this, a tall, handsome man; long blond haired and muscular, rode down the street on a chestnut mare. He stopped outside of the saloon; right next to the wagon Wanda was perched on, and swung down. He tied the reins to the post, tipped his fancy hat to Wanda, and entered the saloon. As the door slammed shut behind him, it brought a wave of male body odor and alcohol so overwhelming, Wanda cringed.

It was a most unprofitable use of her time to stare at the front of the saloon, and she figured the time would go faster if she ignored thoughts of her brother; so Wanda averted her eyes, choosing instead to observe the people walking down the streets. She wanted to see the workings of the town; after all, this was her new home.

She saw a tall blond man wearing a Stetson and a badge on his vest walk out of the mercantile, carrying a load of goods while laughing with a shorter black man also in a Stetson and equally weighed down with goods. She smiled at this; back where they'd come from, racism was subtle, but rampant.

Across the street, a loud clanging noise could be heard, which upon further inspection was shown to be from the blacksmith's shop which adjoined the livery. Inside the shop was a tall, dark-haired man standing at an anvil, presumably the blacksmith. He was wearing thick denim trousers, black boots, a leather apron and little else, really. He has his back to Wanda, and she could see the muscles rolling underneath the skin of his back with every swing of his hammer.

He turned around, dunking a red-hot metal bar into a bucket of water. On his way back to the anvil, he caught Wanda's eye and smiled. She smiled back; sure her face was as red as his furnace. She averted her eyes quickly, finding the Mayor's Office two buildings away from the livery. Wanda leaned forward, trying to see further down Main Street; when a shout behind her drew her eyes back to the saloon. And her brother. On his face. In the dirt. His hat had flown off and there was a beefy, dark-haired man standing over him. The man was quite obviously the bartender, and apparently the heavy too.

"And don't come back until you have money for yer drinks!" The bartender shouted, red-faced. Pietro scrambled up, jamming his hat on indignantly and jumped back onto the wagon. He unwrapped the reins from the brake, jammed it back into place, and spurred on the horses.

"Stupid bartender." He huffed as they rattled away.

"Did you attempt to start a tab?" Wanda asked wryly. "You of all people should know that you have to have paid for at least one drink first. It is the rule of the West."

"I don't want to talk about it." Pietro muttered tartly.

"Of course you don't." Wanda rolled her eyes with a long-suffering sigh.

 **I hope you enjoyed this! It's coming soon, but I'm unsure of what direction to take it in. Now, if you liked this, just mosey on down to my profile and vote on whether this should be a slice-of-life fic or actually have some Avengers-type villains.**

 **Read, Review, Enjoy, and REQUEST!**

 **I will still write anything.**

 **Don't forget to return, this time next week, to read a New Americana songfic. Byeee!**


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